“You blew another hundred bucks?” Ober asked.

“When I got there, there was already a reservation in my name,” Ben said. “It was pretty spooky.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nathan said, repacking the microphone in the duffel.

“I was just thinking,” Lisa interrupted. “What if Rick doesn’t ask for the info?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we’ll just have to be happy with the pictures we get. If we can I.D. him, we’ll be able to finger him if he decides to act against me. And then we can at least link him with whoever his next Charles Maxwell is.”

“Speaking of which,” Nathan said, “do you have any idea what case he might ask for?”

“I was thinking about that,” Lisa said. “The American Steel case is a big money issue. That one’s got to be worth at least a couple of million.”

“No way,” Ben insisted. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one it could be: Grinnell.”

“You think?” Lisa asked.

“I’m sure,” Ben said. “That case is a potential gold mine.”

“How about clueing us legally impaired spectators in?” Nathan said.

“Howard Grinnell and a bunch of other investors own a gigantic old church in downtown Manhattan. About three years ago, they decided to tear down the church to build a new restaurant and shopping complex-just what New York needs. When they went to the zoning board for approval on their demolition plans, word got out, and the New-York Historical Society and a bunch of religious groups asserted that the church was a historic landmark and couldn’t be destroyed. After major lobbying by everyone involved, the church was officially declared a landmark, and therefore was protected by the city. Grinnell and his investors eventually sued New York, saying that by not allowing them to build on their land, the rezoning was a taking of their property.”

“According to the Takings Clause of the Constitution,” Lisa interjected, “the state cannot take land without paying the owner a reasonable value for it. In this case, the value is the money the property would have brought in if it was made into a skyscraper.”

“But I thought you said it was rezoned,” Nathan said. “How is zoning a taking?”

“That’s exactly the question,” Ben said. “Zoning isn’t considered a taking as long as the zoning furthers important community interests. For example, a city can zone an area of land as residential to keep away commercial developers and to ensure that a community thrives. That’s fair zoning. The issue here is whether preserving a historic landmark furthers the community’s interests.”

“It obviously does,” Lisa said, “since the landmark is part of the community. It helps protect the history of the community, and it also helps attract tourists to the community.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Ben said. Looking back to Nathan, he explained, “Lisa and I disagree on this one. I think it’s definitely a taking. Just look at the facts: This investment group paid millions of dollars for this property, which, when they bought it, was allowed to have commercial development on it. They should have been able to rely on that information. Instead, Lisa thinks it’s okay for the government to come in and say, ‘Sorry, we changed our minds. You can’t build anything here and, moreover, you can’t even touch the church since it’s a historic landmark.’ That’s crazy. The government just waltzed in and effectively took the land from the owners. Grinnell and Company now have a dingy old church that’s basically worthless.”

“It’s not worthless. Now they own a historic landmark.”

“Lisa, no one is coming to New York City to see this run-down church. It’s not Disney World. They can’t charge admission. They’re stuck with it as is.”

“If the land needs so much protection, why doesn’t the government just pay Grinnell for it?” Nathan asked. “Why should a private citizen have to bear the burden of paying for a historic site that everyone else enjoys for free?”

“There you go,” Ben said. “I told you you should’ve gone to law school.”

“But the owner still owns a historic monument,” Lisa said.

“Big deal,” Ben said. “What are the bragging rights going to get you? If you can’t make money from it, you’ve got fifty million dollars sunk into a stamp collection you can’t sell.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Lisa asked. “Otherwise, we bulldoze history so we can have more strip malls.”

“Listen, I don’t want to sound like Scrooge here, but history doesn’t pay the bills. This group invested millions of dollars because they relied on the city’s zoning. If the city changes its mind, then the city should compensate whoever it screws. Period.”

“Ben, you’re saying we should-”

“Okay, I think we get the idea,” Nathan interrupted. “I’m sure you two can go at it all night, but some of us have work tomorrow.”

“Besides, it’s not our decision,” Ben said. “Hollis and crew will tell us what to write, and that’ll be it.”

“Precisely,” Nathan said, closing his duffel. “So let’s wrap this up. Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

“I think that’s about it,” Ben said. “Let’s hope it goes well tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t, I just hope you don’t freak out and become a sick and twisted version of yourself,” Ober said.

“What are you talking about?” Lisa asked.

“Oh, no,” Ben moaned. “Not the Batman theory.”

“What?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it,” Ober said.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Slapping his hands together, Ober said, “The theory is based on the idea that your whole life can fall apart in one bad day.”

“And how does this relate to Batman?” Lisa asked skeptically.

“Think about how Bruce Wayne became Batman: His parents were shot to death in front of his eyes. On that day, he lost his entire life and had to become something different to stay sane. Same thing with Robin-his parents died on the trapeze. Now think about the villains: The Joker fell in a vat of acid and was betrayed by those he trusted. Two-Face was hit with a vial of acid. In the movies, Catwoman was pushed out of a window and the Riddler lost his job. All it takes is one bad day to step over to the side of obsessive madness.”

“That’s a wonderful theory, but there’s one flaw,” Ben said.

“And what’s that?”

“It’s that THOSE PEOPLE AREN’T REAL! THEY’RE COMIC BOOK CHARACTERS!” Ben yelled, sending Nathan and Lisa into hysterics.

“So?” Ober asked.

“So, I’m not that worried about whether I’ll want to get myself a Bat-a-rang or become Gotham City’s newest villain. For some silly reason, I don’t think your theory applies to real life.”

“You say that now,” Ober said, “but you have no idea what tomorrow will bring.”

“You’re right,” Ben said. “I may not know what tomorrow will bring, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be a cape and a utility belt.”

When Ben, Nathan, and Ober returned home, they found Eric sitting at the dining-room table, writing. “Where were you guys?” he asked, putting down his pen. “I was starting to get worried.”

“We were-”

“Nowhere,” Ben interrupted.

“Ben, can you just stop it?” Eric asked.

“No, I can’t just stop it,” Ben said, walking into the kitchen to get a drink. “You started it, and now you have to deal with it.”

“I said I’m sorry. What the hell else do you want?”

“What do I want?” Ben asked, pouring himself a glass of cold water. “Let’s see: I want trust. I want respect.”

“Forget about it,” Nathan said, taking a seat next to Eric. “Everyone just go to bed.”

“Oh, and Ober,” Ben said, “I don’t appreciate you telling my mother about Eric’s and my argument. It’s none of her business.”

Ober sat on the couch, leafing through a magazine. “I just said it was a tiny disagreement.”

“Now why did you have to tell my mother that?” Ben asked. “Was that really necessary?”

“You know how she is,” Ober said. “She started grilling me on what was going on. She’s relentless. It was like she could smell that something was wrong. That was the only thing I said, though. I swear.”